Homecoming
by VoodooQueen
Summary: "The boy might be big as an ox and as dumb as as goddamn rock, but he's good with his hands. Damn good."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own TCM but I do claim my own original characters and plot**

Amanda sighed in both exhaustion and irritation. The hot Texas sun beat unmercifully down on the parched earth and caused disorienting waves of heat to rise from the cracked asphalt. She cursed herself for opting to remove her Jeep's hardtop in order to better "enjoy the heat" her Alaskan upbringing had deprived her of. All she really wished for now was some air conditioning. Well, that and a working GPS. She'd lost her signal quite a ways back down the road and was now solely relying on her memories from 20 years ago to get her where she needed to be. The recollections of an unruly five-year-old certainly weren't the most reliable of road maps.

She took some solace in the fact that she believed she was somewhat on the right track. She'd passed a sign about two miles back announcing that she'd finally entered Travis County. It certainly wasn't like she remembered from way back when her family would come visit her great-aunt Felicity during the summers she was out of school. It had once been a bustling, lively place but now only seemed vacant and depressing. She vaguely recalled once her great-aunt mentioning to her mother once that the meat packing plant, the areas only real industry and gainful employer, would be closing up shop. Most of the residents, great-aunt Felicity included, had counted on the plant as a means of income. So, when it went out of business most of the people who lived in the area also moved on to greener pastures. Her great-aunt had eventually ended up retiring to a small Floridian town full of other older people while the rest of the family had headed back up north to Alaska. Felicity, though, had refused to completely give up the family homestead back in the Lonestar State saying the old place held too many fond memories.

It wasn't until great-aunt Felicity's passing a couple weeks ago that anyone had realized that the woman still even owned the property. Amanda's father had shrugged the place off as a loss, most likely in a state of disrepair having remained uninhabited for so long, and had wanted to contact a realtor as soon as possible to try to unload the place before the taxes came due again. Amanda had protested, though. She had wonderful childhood memories of her great-aunt and the house she'd spent so many summers in. She'd begged her father to wait before listing the property, to give her a chance to check it out first. Maybe, just maybe, she'd pleaded, it wouldn't be as bad as he predicted. Reluctantly, he'd eventually agreed to allow her to scope the place out first. It wasn't a guarantee they'd keep the place but it was better than nothing.

Amanda had been excited at first at the prospect of a road trip. She loved to drive and she loved to explore. Now, however, she wasn't so sure as the road she was traveling suddenly came to a fork and she had no idea which way she was supposed to go. Cursing under her breath, she slammed the Jeep into park and reached for her phone which she had tossed onto the dash after it had become apparent the thing was about as useless as a paperweight this far from civilization. Just as she figured, the words "No Service" glared at her mockingly from the phone's screen. She tossed it back where it had been.

"Well," she huffed. "This is just great."

She eyed both sections of road leading away from where she sat sweltering in the Jeep. Nothing but dirt and dust and shimmering heat for as far as the eye could see in both directions. She briefly considered forgetting the whole thing and turning the Jeep around and heading back the way she'd come. She could go to Austin or Fort Worth, maybe spend a couple weeks there taking in the local scene but she felt she owed it to her great-aunt not to let the homestead go without a fight. She honestly didn't know what she wanted to do anymore. She was hot and sweaty and lost and miserable. Thankfully, she didn't have to dwell on her dilemma too long as her thoughts were interrupted by the whoop of a siren as a police car pulled in behind her with its lights flashing.

She watched the lawman, apparently the sheriff, climb casually out of the car through her rear view mirror as she began to dig her license and registration from the glovebox. As she watched the man grow closer, she felt some relief. This could be a blessing in disguise, not that she wanted and/or needed a ticket on her driving record. But, she reasoned, if anyone could help her with directions, it would surely be him. She smiled as he came up beside her door, her hand already extending her documents out to him. "Good morning, Sheriff."

"Mornin'", he eyed her appraisingly as he took the papers from her hands. "What's a pretty little thing like you doin' stopped all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"I think I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere." She gave a self deprecating chuckle, "Maybe you can help me. Do you know where the old Hartford place is?"

"Hartford?" The sheriff looked at her suspiciously and hawked a wad of tobacco spit onto the ground. "Ain't nobody been livin' out that way for years, missy. What business you got out there?"

"My great-aunt, Felicity, she passed away recently," Amanda explained. "Our family thought she'd done away with the place years ago but it turns out she held onto it. My dad wants to sell it but I thought I owed it to aunt Felicity to at least come out and see if it's still habitable. She was a great woman and she loved it out here, you know?"

"Well, now," the sheriff spat again and handed her paperwork back. "That's right noble of you. Family is the most important thing you got and for what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

He stared at her, seemingly contemplating something for a moment before continuing. "I reckon I can show you how to get to your Auntie's place. You can follow me out there if you want. It ain't much farther."

"Yes, thank you." She smiled at him. "I really, really appreciate it. Thank you...I'm sorry Sheriff. I didn't catch your name."

"You can call me Hoyt. Ain't no trouble, missy. Hell," he grinned, "We're practically neighbors."

Without another word, the sheriff tipped his hat and made his way back to his patrol car and climbed inside. Once he had pulled out around her and started down the right fork in the road, Amanda had fired the Jeep back up and followed the cloud of dust and dirt being kicked up by the patrol car's tires, hoping for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own TCM but I do claim my own original characters and plot.**

"Lord have mercy..." Amanda stood, wide-eyed, looking up at what had at one time been quite a stately, old Texas manor.

"Yep," Sheriff Hoyt chuckled and spat a glob of phlegm onto the ground. "I reckon the old gal's seen better days."

Amanda groaned. The sheriff's comment was an understatement. The scraggly grass that surrounded the place came up to her knees. The wrap-around porch was warped and the columns that supported the roof over it looked like they could topple over at any second. The window frames were rotten and the windows she could see were either hanging crooked in the old wood or were broken. The wood siding was falling off in places and the entire structure was in desperate need of paint. Those were only the issues she could see and, she reminded herself, she hadn't even looked inside yet.

"At least the roof looks sturdy," Sheriff Hoyt offered unhelpfully.

"Yeah," Amanda murmured, "At least there's that."

She pushed herself off from where she leaned against the side of her Jeep and walked slowly toward the aging home. Her heart grew heavier with each new issue her wandering eyes were able to pick out. Maybe her father was right, she glumly conceded. Maybe the house was too far gone to bother with. She had to see the inside, though. She'd hate herself if she didn't at least take a peak. Nearing the rickety porch steps she grimaced at the spongy feel of the wooden rail against her palm. Just one more thing that was gone beyond fixing.

"You watch yourself on those steps, girlie," the Sheriff warned as he cut across the unkept lawn in pursuit. "They're liable to fall through with ya."

"I think they're okay..." Amanda winced as the aged wood groaned and bowed under her 130lbs but they held strong. She released the breath she'd been holding and carefully picked her way the rest of the way across the dangerous-looking porch. Digging into the pocket of her jeans, she pulled out the set of keys her father had provided her with and attempted to open the front door. The key went in, the lock turned, but the door wouldn't budge. She beat at it uselessly with a fist before sighing in defeat. "Well, I guess that's that."

"Stand aside," Sheriff Hoyt made his way up the steps and across the porch to where she stood. "These old doors like to swell in the heat. Sometimes ya got to coax 'em a little to get 'em to open." With that, the sheriff threw his weight into the door, battering it open with his shoulder. The old doorframe splintered into pieces as the door flew back on its rusty hinges and slammed against the wall inside. The sheriff straightened himself and nodded at the young woman and stepped back. "See? I told ya. It just needed a little coaxin'. Ladies first."

Amanda eyed the man warily. Honestly, he kind of gave her the creeps. There was just something about him she couldn't quite put her finger on but she didn't like it. Then again, he had helped her find the place so it may have just been her paranoia talking. She returned his nod and stepped across the threshold into the front parlor where she was immediately assaulted with the smell of dust, damp, and mildew. She scrunched her nose in distaste. Despite the scent of old, closed-up house, however, the inside seemed to be in much better shape than the outside.

Everything was covered in a thick coat of dust and grime but, Amanda noted with relief, someone had the foresight to throw sheets over the furniture before they locked the place up. Wallpaper and paint peeled off the walls in spots and the wood floors needed refinishing. She was sure there were other, more serious issues that couldn't be seen by the naked eye but she was just thankful that everything seemed to be mostly intact. She could easily envision herself as a young child, sprawled out on the floor playing with her coloring books and dolls in this very room. A fond smile tugged at her pink lips.

"Helluva lot nicer in here than out there, ain't it?"

Amanda started at the voice. She'd been so wrapped up in memories that she'd nearly forgotten about the sheriff. "It is," she agreed. "I hate seeing it in this kind of shape, though. It's such a shame. This is such a great old place. I used to love coming here when I was little. Maybe my dad was right. Maybe it's more trouble than it's worth to try saving." She turned to the sheriff. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a lot of work for one little girl." Sheriff Hoyt put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. "You know anything about fixin' up houses?"

"No," Amanda sighed, "Not really. You wouldn't happen to know anyone that does, would you? Someone that could come take a look and see if anything can be done for this place before I throw in the towel and call it a day?"

"Well, now," the sheriff seemed to contemplate the question for a moment before answering. "There's my nephew, Tommy. The boy might be big as an ox and dumb as a goddamn rock, but he's good with his hands. Damn good. Ugly as all sin, though."

Amanda frowned at the sheriff's description of his nephew. That wasn't a very nice way to talk about a family member or anyone, for that matter. Still, she listened. She needed all the help she could get by the looks of the place. "Tommy...do you think he'd be willing to help? Or at least be willing to take a look around and let me know whether or not I'm wasting my time out here?"

"Can't hurt to ask." The sheriff shrugged. "Like I said, the boy ain't got much goin' on upstairs but he's handy. Fixes everything around the house that needs fixin'. I can take you on over to the house and we can see. Besides, it's almost lunchtime and Mama'd tan my hide if she knew I left you here in this big, ole, rundown house alone and didn't do the neighborly thing and invite ya over."

The way the sheriff looked at her kind of made her uneasy but she also hadn't eaten anything since the previous evening. The thought of filling her belly overrode her common sense. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be," Sheriff Hoyt grinned. "It's been a while since we entertained guests. Mama will be beside herself."


End file.
